Page 109 of Jewel of the Assassin

I feel dirty, used, abused.

With Roman? I feel dirty, yet sacred. Used, yet treasured. Abused, yet worshipped. Roman is raw, real, alive. Passion and fire. Burning me, shattering me, resurrecting me. Every time.

Anton is an icy ghost—offering nothing but pain and shadow.

Somehow, some way, I gather the strength to wrap the sheets around me, wincing from the sting of the violation. It can’t be called anything else—rape.

“Anton…” My voice cracks.

He pauses at the bathroom doorway.

“What?”

I purse my lips, refusing to meet his eyes. With his cum still leaking, defiling me, I whisper, “What color are my eyes?”

Silence thickens. My heart freezes.

Then, cold and cruel?—

“Who cares?”

The door slams shut.

36

“An arena block.”

ROMAN

The chains rattle as I shift, each movement sending fresh agony through my bruised body. The doctor patched me up after the bullet, but the pain beneath it all is a dull roar that never fades.

Nothing I can’t handle.

But what twists my gut is the thought of Valentina—the fire in her, crushed beneath his cruelty. The idea of what she’s suffering gnaws deeper than any wound. My wife is strong. But how strong? She sacrificed everything for us, for me most of all. Anton will consume her with the hottest of fires.

Who will she be when the final flame dies?

I don’t regret taking her. Not for a second. But I regret the masked ball, regret letting her meet Sasha, regret not taking better precautions. I never imagined my brother could be so cunning—implanting a tracking device under Sasha’s skin, like a snake in the grass. Rage, regret, fury—they wash over me in waves, crashing and pulling me under.

I hate him. I hate him with a fire that burns through every vein, scorching my soul to ash. I will break free from these chains. I will carve him open, piece by piece. I will make him pay—in blood, in pain, a thousand times over—for every wound he’s carved into her.

Then, at the far end of the dungeon, a dim light flickers on. My chest tightens. My spine locks up.

There she is. Naked, exposed like a war trophy, her skin marked with cruel red welts across her breasts, arms, thighs. Anton’s hand is tight around the back of her neck, possessive and brutal.

I snarl and shake the chains, raw hatred boiling in my veins.

Anton forces her closer. He opens the goddamn cell door and ushers her inside, stepping forward, triumphant, a self-righteous venom dripping from his lips. All I see is her eyes. Amethyst through the tears. But no less wondrous, no less alive. I refuse to look upon her body. No, I hold her gaze, showing her I am still with her.

“Never forget, Roman,” Anton says, voice cold as steel, “you set all this in motion. She was just the spark. You were trained, not I. You made billions, while I scavenged off Father’s scraps.”

Knifing my eyes against his, I growl, rattling the chains. “You built your empire on selling human souls—the blood and flesh of women and girls.”

Anton smirks, unrepentant, tightening his grip on Valentina. She mouths a silent “I love you”. Fuck, she wrecks me. Her strength is my greatest weakness.

“And what of your living, Roman?” Anton challenges, freeing her neck, solely so he may circle her like the vulture he is. “Have you told your precious Valya how many lives it took to win her? Tell her now. Spill your goddamn guts. The truth about the car crash. About stealing her on our wedding day. The lies. The deception. How your loyal staff played along.”

Valentina does not flinch. Her arms don’t squeeze. They don’t even cover herself. She does not shrink. Not for any man.Not for any king. Nor god. Even now…she is my jewel on fire, burning eternal.